


Crossed paths

by Falconette



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sweet, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 16:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falconette/pseuds/Falconette
Summary: You started encountering a certain guy while jogging...





	Crossed paths

A fic that popped into my head while jogging (yeah, along a river dike).

My Bokuto is manga Bokuto (yeah, the beefier one), older too.

I was in a mood for some Bokuto fluff (kinda contradictory, don’t you think? :)).

**Crossed paths**

I picked up jogging during summer break and continued with the good habit into the autumn. It was actually more comfortable running through a crisp evening or a chilly night, than waiting for the heat to ease up and fight through sweltering dusk swarming with flying armadas of bugs. I didn’t chase personal records nor did I seek long distance chases. It was a purely mechanical act; I chose a well beaten, straight path stretching along a river levee, I ran vaguely the same distance with the same pace every time, letting my body do its thing while my mind was occupied with a thousand thoughts, ideas, plans. It was a form of mental, as well as a physical therapy.

Have you ever realized someone has been looking at you the whole time while approaching only from the way he conspicuously turned his head away when passing you by? That is how I started noticing the tall, bulky guy sometime in early September, who would regularly go through the elaborate procedure whenever our paths crossed . He was one of the regulars - I figured that out after awhile - covering the same track but usually in the opposite direction, already returning from his jog when I would be setting out.

I would notice him approach from afar, the bleached spiky hair announced him like a banner, the long legs working like pistons in a steady, relentless rhythm. I didn’t imagine it, his pace would become softer and slower as we would near, his face turning aside just when it would be too obvious he was checking me out. Afterwards, I could clearly hear his legs picking up the pace again, sprinting away in a dash.

So, along with jogging, I picked up a habit of keeping an eye out for the mysterious fellow runner, checking him out as he looked away. He was definitely into something more than just jogging, you don’t get such shoulders and thighs just by running along a dike, and the wiry muscles on him did not seem the useless kind either, like the ones obtained in gyms by mind-numbing  repetitions of picking up weights and putting them down again.

And he got stamina – a trait of active athletes  - because in those rare occasions when he would start his workout late, he would outrun me in both directions with hardly breaking a sweat, shattering my self confidence as a prospect jogger. He would make it look so easy, as he would leave me eat his dust… and would let me have a long, hard look at his broad back and narrow, tight ass. It was definitely a positive motivation to try and chase the black number 4 printed on his back, although I never stood a chance.

Then, one day as we were passing each other by as usual, he gave me a smirk and said, “Hi.”

Except it sounded more like “hoot” and had startled me so much that I only ran past him without a reaction. By that time, I had already started regarding him like a piece of scenery, a character in the background of my life picture that would never interact with me. I felt my cheeks burn and could not make myself turn and see if he was looking back at me too. I don’t think I ever ran home faster.

The next time I saw his hairdo come my way, I already felt needles and pins knotting in my stomach. Something about actually interacting with a guy I objectivized so many times before shook up my confidence. As my feet closed the distance between us, my guts cramped and sank. Where were my bold fantasies about his firm behind and broad chest? And there he was, three, two, one step away.

I managed a smile and did not break our eye contact, painfully aware of my sweaty shirt, messy hair and puffy, crimson face. As if he was waiting for my reaction, he smiled back, more broadly with a genuine glee in his eyes. He had pretty eyes, I noted, big and golden and intense.

I jogged away, not feeling my heavy legs or my tired lungs anymore. It took me awhile to realize I had been sporting a goofy, wide grin on my face ever since the encounter. For god’s sake, I was flirting with a guy without a word, squeamish and silly about it like a schoolgirl.

We didn’t meet for a while  after that and I wondered if he was subconsciously (or perhaps deliberately) scanning the trek ahead for me too, but as days passed I shunned the possibility of actually getting to know. It was a stupid, romantic thought, the guy was probably just being nice to fellow joggers he saw day in day out. For all I knew, he was on ‘HI’ terms with everyone on that levee, he did seem like that kind of guy. I felt a pang of bitterness, forcing myself not to think about him, aware how much I hated when guys got ideas that girls were flirting with them just because they were being nice. I never thought I would me on the other side of that particular coin, trying desperately to see things that may or may not be there.

The fact was, I started imagining what he would look like with that shirt off and spending way too much time deliberating what sports was he into, what kind of person hid behind that crazy, elaborate hair style and was he seeing somebody. I never thought I could miss someone I didn’t even know.

In the meantime, the weather deteriorated and on some days jogging was more an ordeal than leisure, challenging my will and determination. Night would fall early and cold would mercilessly bite and pinch fingers and throats, an attack of the elements only the most hardened runners tackled, making the daily jog a lonely and miserable experience.

 But I just wanted to see him again.

And suddenly, there he was, stepping out from hazy, frozen night air, pushing his body forward in a strong, almost intimidating rhythm. He raised his eyebrows when he spotted me, a smile floating on his lips, his legs coming to a slow but definite halt.  As I approached, my lips stretched into a smile I reserve for friends I haven’t seen for a long time, only at the last moment remembering that we don’t know each other at all and that I cannot just stop to chat with some random guy in the middle of a scarcely lit levee. I jogged on, clenching my teeth at the bitter aftertaste of disillusion. I couldn’t let my fantasy bleed into the reality, it could be not only stupid, but also dangerous.

Only after couple of seconds did I realize he did not continue his way, but was running after me. My heart summersaulted.  There was no way I could outrun him and there was no one else in sight. What was I thinking, giving the eye to strangers on desolate places I predictably frequented, was I out of my mind!?

“It could be dangerous running alone like this.”

That was exactly something a sleazy creep you cannot shake off would say, but coming from him it sounded like a genuine concern. I dared a glance in his direction, meeting his open, friendly gaze. He wasn’t even winded, keeping up with me without an apparent effort.

“Umm, yeah.” I squeezed through my lips, not knowing what to say in my defense. Surely I could not admit I have been roaming the trek to ‘accidentally’ meet him. That would just make _me_ look creepy.  A heavy silence stretched on, a background for our falling footsteps.

“Want me to jog with you?” he asked finally, but I detected a pitch in his voice that was not due to physical exertion. “By the way, my name is Kotaro.” He quickly added, as if the formal introduction would make the situation less awkward.

At that I started laughing and gave him my name. This was absurd, he was just as nervous as I was and that realization somehow broke the ice. We headed back but without a rush, just fast enough to keep warm and slow enough not to return home too soon.

But when he walked me to my door, it definitely felt too soon even though I was freezing in my sweat drenched clothes.

“Would you like to come to a game?” Kotaro asked with a glint in his eye as I was unlocking the front door. He was so nervous, the idea of trying to kiss me, let alone anything more, didn’t even cross his mind. And to think I was at one moment freaked out by the guy…

“Um, ok, sure.” I smiled, thinking a game would not make a bad first date.

“Great, I will text you the details…” his smile widened, his voice a little too enthusiastic for the late hour but he didn’t seem to notice, “now that I have your number.” He departed with a wide, wide grin.

It has never occurred to me that he didn’t intend to watch to game, but to play it.

* * *

So ok, Kotaro told me he was into volleyball, but when I entered the venue, I was surprised with how many people attended the matches. So many players, so many fans , all serious about their banners, colors, songs, scores, ranks, everyone so lanky and looming, I realized Kotaro was not among the tallest of them.

He arranged for me to sit right next to his team’s banner, first row of seats above the court, where I had a nice bird’s eye view of the game. It was, for the most part, wasted on me because the basics I have learned of the sport in school have all but faded. Luckily, I didn’t need any factual knowledge to get sucked into the electrifying atmosphere.

Firstly, I realized that the strange black ‘tights’ Kotaro was jogging in beneath his shorts were, in fact, knee pads he wore to absorb knee trauma in matches.

Secondly, Kotaro was not merely 'into volleyball’; he was the friggin captain of a highly ranked team, being one of the highest ranked players himself.

And when his team entered the court and the spectators cheered them with deafening  songs, shouting his last name in particular, prompting Kotaro to greet them all with raised hands, a hearty cheer and an open wink in my direction, causing another salve of approval, to say I felt out of place would be an understatement.

The high perch gave me a nice insight onto a side of the mysterious jogger I didn’t yet have a chance to see. His agility and stamina did impress, but did not surprise me, even for someone so bulky. Muscles are useful for power but heavy and inert, so his running training made all the more sense. However, the ferocity, the power and relentlessness of a hunting raptor he displayed in the game, taking obvious pleasure in dominating over his opponents, astounded me.

It was kind of hot.

That, and the fact that every time he scored, he soaked in the loud approval of the crowd and shouted “Hey! Hey! Hey!” with arms extended into my direction, making all fans around me snicker and me profoundly blush. So I learned that Kotaro was also blunt and larger than life in a place where he ruled as an apex predator. The reluctant jogger did not belong on the court.

After the second set and a clean victory, I rushed to the appointed meeting point to congratulate him. He showed up beaming, with a towel draped across his shoulders and a half eaten banana in his hand. It was hard to believe that just a few minutes ago that same hand was transforming balls into unstoppable air-land projectiles. There was no trace of superiority in his open, smiling face.

“Well, that was… intense. Congratulations.” I smiled a bit stiffly, walking up to him with my hands folded across my chest, not knowing what kind of greeting he expected from me after he had made it very clear his today’s performance was dedicated to no one else.

I felt all the eyes were on us, waiting to see what would happen next. I hated first dates, everyone around you could tell you are still not fully comfortable with each other and there was not a damn thing you could do about it.

He tilted his head in an inquiring, bird like manner, studying me and my closed body language.

“Let’s get something to drink, I am parched.” Kotaro declared flatly, throwing away the peel and walking towards vending machines. I followed, sunken, berating myself for acting silly. He did win the match and deserved a congratulations, I wanted to be a part of that victory and welcomed the excuse to…

As I turned a corner I found my shoulders held firmly by Kotaro’s hands, his face mere inches from me. The big, golden eyes locked with mine intently, shining with the one-minded ferocity of a predator, yet he didn’t strike. It was me who walked into his embrace, closing the last distance between our lips. He was soaked with sweat, his hair almost all the way down, weighted and disheveled, the body beneath the drenched jersey tense, but his lips were dry and tasted like… a banana.

I laughed against his mouth, hugging him back.

I felt perfectly fine with him deepening the kiss, the power and the hunger of a raptor held in check, his calloused fingertips gently, gently touching the sides of my face and neck. Again, I realized he was just as nervous as I was, feeling his way uncertainly , not wanting to make a mistake. So he threaded carefully, his tongue almost shyly seeking out mine as a playmate, his body slowly pressing more comfortably against mine. I was kissing him back, letting him indulge in his prize, claiming him for me in my own way, not wanting the moment to ever cease.

I have wondered for a long time what this would feel like and now I don’t have to wonder anymore, just feel.

THE END

 

A raunchy sequel?

 

  


End file.
